Windy City Wedding
by DJ Clawson
Summary: Fujiko's getting married, this time to a Chicago mobster. Lupin is to the arguable "rescue," but Jigen refuses to go. COMPLETE.
1. Satellite

Chapter 1 - Satellite

There were severe disadvantages to a hidden mansion. A broken television was one of them. The leak in the kitchen ceiling was another. The tiny inconveniences piled up over the years, fueled by Lupin's insistence on never revealing the location to the repairmen.

"Damnit!"

Jigen, who was previously assumed to be asleep, tilted his hat upwards. "Leave it alone."

"It worked before it rained!"

"Lupin," Goemon said, "if you don't wish to call someone, perhaps you should only invest in gadgets that you comprehend."

"This coming from someone who's never used a phone!"

Jigen broke in again. "What's the big deal? You don't like daytime TV."

Lupin had that look in his eye, cleverness hidden behind a mark of obliviousness. "I want to watch the news."

"There's the radio."

"AMERICAN news. You think I bought a satellite to hear about what's going on in Osaka?"

Goemon glanced over to Jigen, who was spread out on the other couch. Lupin had his back to them, but he added anyway. "It's sort of a job."

"Sort of?"

He put his hands up. "Fujiko's getting married."

Jigen was to busy fuming to answer that; Goemon decided only to reply in a cold stare.

"I know what you're thinking," Lupin said haplessly, "and yes, while I will again make a dashing entrance and win dear Fujiko's heart – Well, that's a given at this point. But the OTHER thing we can assume is that she's not marrying the guy for looks alone."

"Wouldn't put it past her."

"C'mon, Jigen. You know there's gotta be a rock the size of a continent for Fujiko to marry the mob."

Jigen merely huffed with disinterest. Lupin snorted and turned his attention back to the television. He fiddled with it until he finally produced a semi-clear picture. In the corner of the screen, the barely-legible station ID read, 'WMAQ5/NBC.' "Here we go."

"You believe Fujiko's marriage merits national attention?" Goemon said impatiently, because Jigen had either gone back to sleep or was still refusing to acknowledge Lupin.

"Not her marriage. It's more about who she's marrying." He turned the volume up, and stepped away from the TV.

An extremely unmemorable newscaster was in front of the desk, sitting beside a graphic of a grave. "A small crowd attended the funeral of James Marcello, alleged head of the Chicago underworld. Marcello died of heart complications on Sunday. While he was never formally charged, Marcello was a target of multiple FBI investigations. With his passing, authorities say they will concentrate their efforts on his successor, who has not been named."

Beneath his hat, Jigen twitched. Lupin apparently missed it, but Goemon said nothing.

"Sources say the decision is likely between two candidates, Marcello's son Antonio, and his nephew Christopher Magnelli. No word yet as to that outcome, as family first mourns the death of their patriarch."

Lupin muted it as the newscaster began to discuss a new medication on the market. "Fujiko's apparently engaged to the son. Anthony. Which means on top on becoming very rich, she could also become very powerful."

"And you intend to stop her?" Goemon said, picking up the slack from Jigen.

"Well, it's not so much stopping her as figuring out what she's up to. The family's reported to be wealthy, but hey – so am I." He rubbed his chin. "There's something else in it for her. And if I win her heart in the process – well, that's hardly a bad thing." He turned to them. "What do you say, guys?"

Jigen abruptly stood up. "I'm out."

"C'mon, I know you don't like – "

"I'm OUT. I don't want anything to do with Fujiko's scheme, if she even has one that's worth getting in over our heads for." He tipped his hat to Lupin. "Have the time of your friggin' life." He stormed out and slammed the door behind him.

"I totally wasn't finished trying to convince him," Lupin said in despair, sinking into his armchair.

"Leave him be," Goemon said. "I will go with you."

"Yeah, you'll fit in," Lupin mumbled.

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Fujiko was having a rough day, but she wasn't about to let anyone know it. Tony was turning into a rather demanding fiancé, and not in the usual ways. She went to the doctor's office only reluctantly, after a lot of coxing on his part. She would of course do it, but she made him work for it.

"Ms. Mine," said the intern who came in first, garbed in scrubs for some reason. "I'm just going to ask you some preliminary questions before you see the doctor. Age?"

She raised her eyebrow skeptically.

"I'll just skip a few," he mumbled. "Now, are you sexually active?"

"Oh, YES," she said with a great deal of emotion. As much as possible, really. "Very."

"Monogamous or multiple partners?" he asked. "Are you seeing anyone on the side?"

"C'mon, Lupin," she said without batting an eye. "You can do better than that."

He pulled down his mask. "You can't blame me for trying, Fuji-cakes." He touched one of her bare feet, up on the examination table. "The doctor also ordered me to do a preliminary –"

She responded by kicking him in head, hard enough to remove the rest of his upper costume. He stumbled back, rubbing his head. "That's no way for a lady to act."

"It is when she has to put up with men acting like horny adolescents. Seriously, Lupin. I expected more from you."

"Then you don't know me that well," he giggled. "After all these years. Really, Fujiko. Going off and getting engaged behind my back. You're just ASKING for me to make a dashing entrance."

"If you call an intern with wandering hands dashing," she mumbled. "And yes, I did sort of expect you, but that doesn't mean I want you to come."

"Yeah, I figured it out when I didn't get an invitation." He leaned on the wall and tried his best to look upset. "So are you gonna tell me the scheme, or am I gonna have to examine it out of you?"

"What if I told you there wasn't one?"

"Then I flew halfway around the world to cop a final feel. But I know better than that."

Lupin wasn't giving in, but neither was she. "The doctor'll probably be in soon."

"Yeah, but his bedside manner probably isn't half as good as mine." His hands began to roam again, which earned him a slap across the face.

"Seriously, Lupin, my fiancé will make mincemeat out of you if we're seen together. So why don't you get lost?"

"Tell me the scheme and I'll leave." He raised his hand. "Thief's honor."

"Maybe I just want a life of commitment?"

"Coming from a woman who's been engaged thirty-odd times, that's saying a lot."

She frowned. He wasn't going to leave. "It's a diamond the size of my fist."

"And it's Marcello's?"

"Family heirloom. Has been since his grandfather stole it. Don't ask me where it is, because I'm not dumb enough to tell you."

Lupin rubbed his chin, "That's my girl."

"And now – you said you'd leave?"

"Of course. Thief's honor and all that." He patted her on the back. "Good luck, Fuji-cakes." Replacing his mask, he left the room, leaving her to wonder if that had been a challenge. She decided it most definitely was.

_To Be Continued..._  



	2. Driveby

Chapter 2 – Drive-by

"Talk to me, baby," Lupin growled as he adjusted the heavy headphones to the audio device. Goemon merely growled with disapproval and looked out the window, where he had a view of the doctor's office. Fujiko's voice from the bug was coming in over some amount of static. "Yeah, that's the way I like it."

"Somehow I imagine this could be done without your color commentary," Goemon said.

"But then it wouldn't be half as fun."

"Explain to me why we're listening to Fujiko have her yearly physical?"

"Goemon, if you have ask that question, you've really been lost in those trances all these years. And I thought you were just being polite." Before Goemon could give a rebuttal, he raised his hand for silence so they could concentrate on Fujiko, who was now talking to a doctor or nurse. Across the alley, the shades were drawn.

The questions posed by the doctor were ordinary – but the answers were rather suggestive. It was hard to tell if she was using a seductive voice or her normal one, but it was enough to drive Lupin up the wall, almost literally. Goemon held back his commentary this time as they listened to Fujiko grow increasingly lewd and the doctor increasingly nervous and disturbed.

"Oh man, I don't think I can take this."

"You like it when she talks this way to YOU."

"Well, obviously there's a difference." There was a crashing sound, and they both looked out the window, as if that helped. "C'mon!" It went without saying that nothing could dissuade Lupin from jumping through the window and slamming right into the opposite one. Goemon followed him, landing two stories down on the ground next to where Lupin had crashed, his face red from being pressed into glass.

They darted ran around to the front of the building, almost crashing into a man in a white coat running out the front door. "Hey, watch where you're going, buddy – we're coming to a lady's rescue!"

"Rescue?" the doctor asked in confusion, but he was cut off by the sound of gunfire. Lupin instinctively grabbed both of them and ducked behind the illegally parked car.

"What the hell was that?" said a half-disrobed Fujiko, who had emerged from the front doors.

They peered over the car, to the opposite side of the street, where several men dressed in a manner that could only be described as "thuggish" had climbed out a of a waiting van and were firing at them. Fujiko disappeared in horror back into the building, leaving the three of them hiding from fire.

The noise was temporarily zoned out by the squeal of tires. Lupin dared to look over the hood to the car that was pulling up and the door that was open for them.

It was Jigen behind the wheel. "Grab the doc and get in!"

Neither of them had any real objections. Lupin shoved Dr. Attelberg in the front seat and climbed in the back with Goemon as the car took off. The thugs were apparently not interested in giving chase, and took a few potshots at the car as it escaped around a corner.

In his seat, Attelberg was squirming around until Jigen put a hand on his arm. "Take it easy." He pushed up his hat so the doctor could see his eyes. "We're the good guys this time."

"Depends on your definition of the term," Goemon chimed in.

"Even I'm not sure who's side we're on right now," Lupin admitted. "But we couldn't let you get shot up back there."

"You're gonna be fine now," Jigen assured him. "We'll take care of you."

The doctor looked around, trying to take in a 30's mobster, a samurai, and a man who dressed like a circus ringmaster. "Who are you guys?"

"We're undercover cops with lousy training," Lupin said. "But really – the man from the Kurosawa film is Ishikawa Goemon the 13th the man who just saved us is Daisuke Jigen, and I'm the right honorable Lupin the Third."

"Ben Attelberg," he said hesitantly. "You guys are - ?"

"Gentlemen."

"Stinkin' thieves," Jigen said with a smirk, and shoved his hat back down.

"Not that we're going to rob you," Lupin offered. "Unless you're carrying a massive diamond on you."

Attelberg looked half-tempted to crack a smile. "Uh ... no, I'm just a doctor. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. Not until that lady came in – "

"Fujiko," Jigen said with a snarl. "What did she do to you?"

"She tried – she tried to – "

" – seduce you?" Goemon chimed in before Lupin wanted to. "Standard operating procedure. The question becomes – why?"

"I don't know. She didn't get that far." He paused. "Wait – she's Marcello's fiancé, isn't she?"

"She'll come to her senses eventually," Lupin insisted. "But until then, yes."

"This probably a sketchy connection, but maybe she knew I'm Chris Magnelli's doctor. Which would explain why Chris had men here to watch her and me."

Jigen took the cigarette out of his mouth. "You're Chris' doctor?"

"I didn't want to – but Christ, it's Chris. And he just wants routine check-ups. It was fine until this – Fujiko? – she showed up."

"And now Chris thinks you're working for her," Jigen said.

"And if you were," Lupin guessed, "you could help her get rid of the competition."

"I'm not!"

"We believe you. Right, Jigen?" To this Jigen said nothing. "Just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You shouldn't go home, not if Chris is mad at you," Jigen said authoritatively. "You'll stay with us until this blows over." He looked over at Lupin and gave him a glare of death.

"... Uh, yeah. Sure," Lupin said. "You get to experience the infamous Lupin gang hospitality."

"Yeah. That means miso soup and sleeping in the bathtub of a cramped hotel room," Jigen said good-naturedly. "And if this Japanese policemen in a trench coat shows up you get to jump out the window."

"Am I going to get shot at?"

"Only minimally."

Ben squirmed in his seat. "I'll talk it."


	3. Cable

Chapter 3 – Cable

Drake Hotel, Chicago

"Fujiko's all right," Lupin announced, closing his cell. "She's back with Tony Marcello."

"Well, isn't that friggin' great," Jigen said from the couch, where he was cleaning his gun. Beside him with a still very flustered Doctor Attelberg, obviously adjusting to his situation. Goemon was in the armchair.

"Your concern is always touching," Lupin said without venom. "Though I did notice you hopped the pond."

"Well, somehow I knew I might have to save your ass, Lupin," Jigen said with a smirk. "You've been here – what, a day? – and you've already had a hit put out on you."

"As much as this may hurt Lupin's ego," Goemon said, "I believe it was meant for the good doctor here."

"I must have missed something."

"Fujiko is marrying Tony Marcello. He's fighting with his cousin Chris Magnelli over control of the mob here, and for some reason, he wanted Fujiko to put the moves on Chris' doctor here. Just to recap. Oh, and Marcello has a very special diamond in his collection."

"Is THAT was this is about? A diamond?" Ben asked with disbelief.

"Maybe not for the mob, but for Fujiko, one can only assume," Lupin said confidently. "I don't know when she's planning to make off with it, but hopefully before this gets even messier."

"Yeah, well, that's just great," Jigen said. "Have fun with that."

"Jigen!"

"I said I wasn't getting involved in any of Fujiko's problems," he snarled. "I'm willing to bail you out once or twice, but that's it."

"How do you guys know Fujiko?" Ben interjected, to which Jigen chuckled but didn't say anything.

"She is both our friend and our enemy," Goemon said as politely as possible. "Depending on her whim, and Lupin's ability to control his libido."

"Hmph." Lupin crossed his arms. "I don't see you guys putting any effort into women. You know, I'm starting to wonder – " He staggered back as his tie slid off, curt in half vertically. Goemon had already resheathed his blade. "...As I was saying. Marcello has a diamond, and I think Fujiko is going to lead us right to it. Funny, it's usually the other way around."

"So you're going to tail Fujiko?" Ben guessed.

"Even better. The cops have done half the work for us," Lupin explained. "As it turns out, the FBI has had Marcello's mansion bugged for years. They haven't gotten anything from it yet, but we're not interesting in building a case against him. All we have to do is plug into their surveillance van and sit back until someone mentioned the diamond. Which, knowing Fujiko, will happen as soon as possible." He turned to Jigen. "I take it you won't be going with us."

"Go to hell."

"That's a no. A Jigen no, but a no all the same. C'mon Goemon."

"Why am I always getting dragged into this?" Goemon grumbled.

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"Call."

"Call? No way."

"Call."

"Fine! Two pair!"

"Straight flush!"

On top of the van labeled 'Cable Services', Lupin was still adjusting his own equipment. "So this is what American cops do on stakeout. Poker. Wish Interpol would take it up." While he tried to hone in on the actual signal from the house, they were stuck listening to the agents in the van below wile away the hours. "Wait – I think I've got it." The sounds of a television came in over the headphones. The big mafia boss was apparently watching the news. "Hmm. Maybe we should just tape it and listen to it later."

"Lupin." Goemon pointed with sword. "In the backyard."

Even though the television was still blaring, Tony Marcello had stepped outside, and was standing by his pool, talking on a cell phone. From their vantage point on top of the van they could see it perfectly, but the cops below them were still arguing over poker winnings.

He wasn't alone. A blond woman – definitely not Fujiko – had joined him and they were talking in earnest. "That woman – " but Goemon didn't know her.

"Silvia Magnelli. Chris Magnelli's wife," Lupin quickly explained. "What's she doing here becomes the obvious question."

It was an obvious question with an obvious answer. The two mobsters were not there to argue with each other. Lupin and Goemon had done enough scheming in their time to know it when they saw it. Tony finished with a kiss on her cheek, and Silvia slipped out the way she had come. Fujiko was still nowhere to be seen.

"Cheating on Fujiko! Really!" Lupin said with disgust.

"And one would think this news would be encouraging to you. Wouldn't it be that much easier to talk her out of her marriage?"

"I know! But call me a romantic, I don't like to see a man mistreat a woman!" He nearly destroyed the binoculars in his hands with his rage. Goemon was ready to stop him when they both noticed a handcuff on Lupin's wrist.

"What – Hey! Zenigata!"

It was indeed Inspector Zenigata, who was hanging off the side of the van, the connecting handcuff proudly on his own wrist. "Thought you could hide out in American, did you Lupin?"

"Hey, you should be grateful. Chasing me means you get to travel the world," Lupin said without missing a beat. "What are you doing here? Other than the obvious?"

"It's amazing, you repeat yourself like a broken record. All I had to do was follow Fujiko and I knew you'd show up," Zenigata said proudly as he climbed on top of the van. There was still no movement from inside.

"Well, if I'm so predictable, you must have seen this coming," Lupin said, slipping straight out of the handcuff. "See ya, Pops! Watch out for the bramble on the way down!" With that, he and Goemon leapt off the van and into the bushes. Zenigata attempted to follow them, only to find himself now handcuffed to the van antenna. "LUPIN! GET BACK HERE!" The van's side door slid open, and two men who didn't even remotely look like cable servicemen stared in befuddlement at the Japanese man hanging in front of them. "What are you staring at? I'm an Interpol officer! Now get me down from here!"

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"Well, I think letting Zenigata blow the FBI's cover is enough for one evening," Lupin said when they were back in the car. "Tell me, Goemon, have you ever eaten Italian food?"

"We were in Italy."

"Well, yeah, but you were still in that purist Japanese food phase." He looked over. "And from your expression, I see that you still are. You should expand your horizons Ishikawa-san." He added, "It's all basically noodles anyway."

"Why don't you ask Jigen?"

"Now what ever make you think he likes Italian food? But seriously, he seems preoccupied with moping at the moment. Let's get some dinner."

This seemed to be one of those times when Lupin would not be dissuaded, so Goemon decided it was best to go along with him. Lupin pulled up to a little restaurant nestled between convenience stores with all of the atmosphere from that movie Goemon had been made to watch one lazy afternoon. What was the name of that movie? It was about a father or something. Shimatta.

Lupin immediately sat down at the bar. "Give me the special."

The burly bartender spun around. "Hey – Lupin! Haven't seen you in years. Since you did the thing – with those guys. I can't thank you enough."

"It was no problem. I had never been to Belize," Lupin said. "Look, I need some information."

"What can I do for you, Frenchie?"

Lupin said completely seriously, "What can you tell me about Ben Attelberg?"

"Who?"

"He's Magnelli's doctor. They knew each other when they were kids or something."

The bartender paused. "...Yeah, I remember him. Little Jewish kid. He was in a gang with Chris Magnelli, with this other guy. His name was, uh, Jimmy Diesi. Dead now, or witness protection. Anyway, they used to run around the neighborhood and cause trouble. Nothing serious, just kids messing around and hanging out on the tracks and all that."

"But they're not a gang now."

"No, Ben's always been a civilian. He went straight and narrow as soon as he went to college, and the other two went into the business, if you know what I mean." There was some coughing on the other end. "One winds up probably taking a dirt nap somewhere and the other becomes a big mob boss." He added, "Oh yeah, and there, uh, is no mafia. Officially."

"That's good to know." Lupin put some money down on the counter next to his untouched drink. "Thanks a lot, Charlie." He turned to Goemon. "C'mon. I think there's a sushi place down the street."

To be continued...


	4. Screen Door

Chapter 4 – Screen Door

In Lupin's absence, Jigen and his guest had taken their liberties with room service. Carts on wheels piled up in the corner of the living room. They were watching television with a certain relaxed air, some medical drama.

"I take it you don't want leftovers," Lupin said, bringing his entrance to their attention.

"Not if it's raw fish, man," Jigen said between mouthfuls of a bread roll. "I thought you were on stakeout."

"It was cut short by Zenigata's obsessive-compulsive disorder," Lupin lamented. "But we did learn something rather interesting."

"Oh?"

"Tony Marcello is allied with Silvia Magnelli."

Goemon cut in, "If 'allied' is your choice of words."

Ben spit out what was in his mouth and looked over at Jigen, who immediately got up and left the room.

"For a guy who's not involved, he's rather involved," Lupin observed, turning to Ben. "Explain, doctor."

"Aw, you shouldn't really ask me. I owe it that much to him. Let's just say Silvia's not the greatest woman in the world and leave it at that."

But Lupin wasn't satisfied. He went the way Jigen had gone, into the bedroom.

Jigen was standing out on the balcony, as if beckoning Lupin. His whole posture was expectant, if in a subtle way, as he chewed on his cigarette. He didn't look particularly sober, but that was probably for the best. "I need a favor."

"Really." Lupin said it in a less eagerly curious manner than he usually said things. He leaned against the doorway.

"Yeah." He decided that an elaboration was probably necessary. "It's not help offing someone, if that's what you're thinking."

"The furthest thing from my mind." Lupin straightened up. "I'll help you, but I would appreciate if you tell me what this is about." He added, "_Jimmy_."

Jigen paused uncomfortably before answering. "After the job." He pushed his hat even further down.

"Now, Jigen." He was rarely so insistent with Jigen. He preferred the annoying and casual suggestion, but he knew it wouldn't work. Very rarely did he put on his 'I'm the boss' hat, but it seemed to work.

"You're really a dick, aren't you?"

"About this, apparently I am. So spill."

"About what?"

"Well, Silvia. Apparently. Start with her."

Jigen made a long sigh, the kind that just let the smoke curl around the brim of his hat. "She's bad news. Always has been. I know that's not saying a lot for me, but I really mean it this time. I told Ben not to marry her, but he was a stupid kid in love, so he didn't listen. Something about her was always – off, to me.

"But Ben, he was totally friggin' paranoid about her safety for some reason. Maybe he was just paranoid about her, I don't know. But he asked me to guard her and I said yes."

Lupin quipped, "Something tell me this doesn't end like a romantic comedy."

"Not funny," Jigen said coldly. "Anyway, I don't know what was going through her head, but she was on the make for me. She was a looker herself but I'm not that stupid. So I said no and she didn't take it well. Told Chris I tried to rape her, to be blunt about it."

"And?"

"You know those screen doors I have in my chest?"

He did. He had certainly seen Jigen half-naked during enough costume changes to notice Jigen had not one but like five or six bullet scars in his chest and a few in the back. It came with the territory, it seemed.

"Well, he put him in there. Down by the docks. You know that thing with cement shoes? Takes too long to pour. It's more like an anchor and some chains."

"But you lived."

"Yeah. Barely."

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_16 Years Ago_

_He was still alive. His mind ran down the list of people who would want that information. Definitely Chris. Silvia. Marco. He wasn't too keen on it himself, because being alive seemed to, at this moment, mean a tremendous amount of pain. Oh, and he'd need oxygen. Another thing on the list._

_Slowly his mind came out of its haze, and urgency returned. He needed oxygen, right now. He was underwater. He was going to drown. Hell, if he hadn't already._

_Returning to real awareness was not a fun experience. His lungs burned, his legs ached, and opening his eyes, he saw only reddened waters. He could barely see the chains beneath him. The box had landed somewhere, among the debris. He tugged on is restraints feebly for a moment, which brought new waves of pain from the movement. Damnit, why did he have to be alive? It seemed like such a hassle, when it was obvious he was just going to die again._

_Slowly but surely, panic was returning. He needed air. He needed freedom. He needed to not be in searing pain. Several tugs, and the cement carton was still as anchored as it had been, somewhere in the murky depths. Living was sure as hell unpleasant, but Jesus Christ, he didn't want to die!_

_With new fervor he attacked the chains wrapped around his legs. If he could just crush one of them – Yeah, that would be real smart, destroying one of his feet. Good long term plan there._

_But he wasn't thinking long term. He kicked off his shoes, and they disappeared into darkness. His socks quickly followed. Okay, all needed to do was remove that skin and wiggle out._

_A good deal of skin did have to come off for him to escape the hastily-tied loops of chain, which was painful enough but not in comparison. He drifted to the surface, which looked as dark as the bottom. In fact, everything was rather looking rather black..._

_---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

_Air was coming in. That, and an awful lot of sand. Not the nice kind, like a beach in Caribbean, but the dirt-like sand of the riverbank. It tasted terrible. He spit some of it out, and flipped over so he could breathe better._

_He was still alive, his third surprise of the night, after being shot and being alive the first time. He couldn't sit up yet, and his eyes stung from all the salt water when he opened them, but he was still alive. He could not decide if this was a good thing._

_He needed time to rest. Slowly it occurred to him that he didn't have any. He had probably lost a lot of blood – no, correction, he had DEFINITELY lost a lot of blood – and he was losing more. The sand beside him was damp and red, and the waves lapping at his feet were looking similar. Somewhere in his mind he acknowledged that if he lay here, he would just get weaker and weaker._

_He came at last to his feet, unsure of which wound to clutch. Some of the bullets were probably still in there. As tempting as the idea was, this was not a situation where he could crash somewhere and heal up. His mind wasn't at its sharpest, but he knew that much. Besides, he was just leaving evidence all over the place that he was still up and moving by standing here._

_He was still alive. He needed a constant mental reminder to keep him going as he climbed back up to the docks. It was even later now, probably just before the morning boats went out. The old wood hurt his wounded feet, but that was really the least of his concerns. Should he try to walk to a car and steal it? Should he hide on a boat? Either direction was a blur to him. It was early morning, yet it seemed to be growing darker –_

_No. He forced himself more awake. If he passed out here, some worker would find him, and his ID, and call around. And then Chris would know he was alive. Chris – he would – He refocused again. Safety. A doctor. He needed a doctor._

_His gun, miraculously, was still where it had been tossed by the button men. Bending over to get it was probably more trouble than it was worth, but he felt better with it back in his hands. Stronger. He was going to make it – somehow, as long as he had his magnum._

_He walked down the docks – in what direction, he wasn't sure – using one hand to clutch his sides and the other to carry his gun, half-aimed at nothing. His vision was fading again. "Friggin' hell." His voice sounded distant, like it didn't belong to him at all. He could barely see in front of him, not until he crashed into something._

_A pay phone. He couldn't decide whether today was his lucky day or horribly unlucky. A little bit of both, really. He leaned against the metal casing and stared at the numbers, as if they would provide him with who to call. No one he worked for. No one he really knew, as they were all connected to the Family. Fuck. He needed a better social life. He needed a cigarette._

_Blood covered the casing and was dribbling down the numbers before he remembered Ben. Ben would help him. Ben wouldn't tell anyone. Or he would kill him. It was really that simple. And hopefully, Ben would take a collect call._

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- _

_"Hey, kid."_

_He looked up. His father was looking at him, hovering over him half-aggressively, half-protectively. "What are you doing here?"_

_"Daisuke – your mom called me Daisuke. She didn't know last names came last. Crazy country they have over there," he offered without explanation. "Get up, you lazy bum."_

_"Dad." But he couldn't even begin to move. He was trapped there, leaning against the pole beneath the phone._

_"I loved her. But, you know, everything over here got a little too crazy. She wasn't a Guinea brat like everyone else."_

_This was all information he knew. That he had been told a thousand times. "Dad."_

_"Let me give you some advice: Get up." He said with a smirk, "Or at least wake up."_

_"Dad?"_

_"Wake up."_

_The voice wasn't his father's. Which made sense, because his father was dead. Had been for years. He opened his eyes to Ben Attelberg. They had been in little league together. Now Ben was a doctor – an internist, or something. He didn't know much about doctors. "Hey, Ben." He wanted to say, 'thanks for coming' but his energy was spent. It had been spent when he opened his eyes._

_"Jesus, you look terrible." Ben was kneeling next to where he had collapsed against the pole, his body a rag doll. "Who did this to you?"_

_"If I told you ... you would ... call the cops," he wheezed. "I need ... a favor ..."_

_"I gotta get you to the hospital, and then you can ask. Let me call an – "_

_"NO!" he shouted, to his own surprise. He didn't think he had it in him, but he grabbed Ben's arm, smearing the sleeve with his own blood. "Ben – no. I ... can't ... Don't ... register me. I don't want ... anyone – "_

_"They're gonna find out, when you go missing. Will you stop being macho and let me call?"_

_"No – don't understand," he said, as Ben wiggled free of his grasp. "They think ... I'm dead ... Need to ... leave it – that way."_

_Ben paused, until understanding seemed to pass on his face. Ben was a civilian if he ever was one, and so was his whole family, but that didn't mean he was stupid. "I'll try to cover for you, but you still need an ambulance. I think I can register you as someone else."_

_"Fine ... I ... owe you." He didn't lose consciousness entirely, but a lot of awareness was leaving him. The world was getting lighter and darker at the same time, as his mind descended back into haze. Unfortunately, the pain followed him there. He was alone with it, except for sirens in the distance, and whispered voices._

_The light – the light hurt his eyes. He had woken up again, unable to fully find rest, and now there was light everywhere, artificial and humming. He was in the emergency room, and there were men in white coats – they were cutting his clothes off. He rolled his head sideways, and found Ben standing there, putting in an IV._

_"You must be the toughest guy in Chicago, and that's saying a lot." Ben said, noticing he was awake, as he raised his hand to his patient trying to speak. "Don't talk. We're gonna give you a cocktail, and you're gonna take a nap, okay?"_

_He nodded; it was the last thing he remembered._


	5. Kidnap

Chapter 5

_16 Years Ago_

_ "I brought you some shoes," Ben said, offering up a pair of loafers. "I didn't know your size."_

_ "They'll be fine," he muttered, swinging his legs off the end of the bed. "Thanks."_

_"Don't walk that far. Just around the nurse's station a couple times, okay?" he said protectively._

_"I need to start walking."_

_"What you need is to not be such a tough guy all the time. Which is probably what got you into this mess." He  
checked off something on his chart. "By the way, there's a memorial service for you tomorrow."_

_He grunted, amused. "You going?"_

_"What, you want a report?"_

_"You've done enough for me," he mumbled, getting to his feet. This required leaning on the railing. "I can't think of a way to repay you."_

_"C'mon. We grew up together. Besides – what would you have done that morning if I hadn't picked up the phone?"_

_"Died," he said abruptly. "You never asked how – "_

_"I know." Now it was Ben's turn to be surprising. "Before the first surgery, we gave you sodium fentanyl. It's a prep drug, but it also happens to be a truth serum, and a short term memory killer. I asked if you were still awake, and you started talking. So I asked." He paused. "Sorry. But I was kind of curious."_

_"What did I say?"_

_"That you rejected Silvia's advances, and she told Chris you tried to rape her. Though you used more colorful language. So he had you shot." He added nervously, "Are you going to go after him? No, wait – maybe you shouldn't tell me that."_

_"I'm not," he said gruffly._

_"You're not?"_

_"I'm not." He could stand now, with one hand on the edge of the bed. "He did somethin' I would have done, if she had been my wife. Whatever else happens between them is none of my business."_

_"The big day."_

_He straightened the jacket give to him on his shoulders. Not exactly his style, but he knew better than to be choosy. Guilt passed through him like pain. He had asked so much of Ben, and offered nothing in return. "You didn't have to go to the service."_

_"It would have looked weird if I wasn't there, right?" Ben said with a wink. "Anyway, it was nice. They got a stone and everything."_

_He didn't ask if anyone had cried. He couldn't imagine they would have._

_"There's a razor in the bathroom, if you want to shave."_

_"Nah." He rubbed his furry chin. "I'm gonna grow it out. Look like a different person." __I am a different person, he thought to himself. He had lost weight – not that he had much to lose – and most of the color in his face was still gone. He was a mess, but it felt good. Besides, it wasn't like he was reporting to work anytime soon._

_"Do you know where you're going?"_

_"Not really." It was the honest truth. "And that's better for you, anyway."_

_"This never happened. Secret Outfit stuff." Ben seemed amused by the idea. "Look, you can't push yourself. Wherever you go, you have to rest most of the day. And don't do anything strenuous."_

_"They sewed me up good," he said. "I'll be fine."_

_"I left you some money. It's in the left pocket."_

_He glanced down, and saw a few bills. "Ben, I'm really going to owe you one for all this."_

_"You can pay me back by staying alive. Somewhere."_

_He smirked, and started for the door, unsure in his unfamiliar clothing that covered layers of bandages. All that remained on him of his old self was his tie, his wallet, and his holster, protecting the gun. He knew right of the bat that he couldn't use any of this credit cards or banking materials, and his ID was practically as useless. He was going out there with what Ben gave him, the Smith and Wesson, and nothing else._

_"Jimmy," Ben said hesitantly, "Am I ever going to see you again?"_

_"Not if either of us can help it," he said, and closed the door behind him._

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Christopher Magnelli knew something was off before he stepped in the limo. It hit him while he was still on the sidewalk – not  
literally, just a feeling. Maybe he would be safer in the cab. Maybe he was about to be assassinated in the sidewalk, like in the movie. Yes, that's it, his life was turning into Godfather – terrific.

But the problem wasn't a sniper on the sidewalk. Chris realized this as he slid into the leather seat, and the driver closed and locked the door behind him.

Ben Attelberg was sitting across from him, looking very expectant for some reason. Next to him was someone unfamiliar, a thug with a fedora over his face. He had a distinct Smith and Wesson pointed at Chris.

It all made him do a double-take. "Ben – " Ben was a civilian, wasn't he? Had he sold out? "Marco!"

In the driver's seat, Marco giggled in an entirely unfamiliar way. He tore off a latex max to reveal a different man with a buzz cut and sideburns. He didn't recognize him. "Just enjoy the ride."

"You're not in danger – " Ben said.

" – we just need to talk." The man with the gun pushed his hat up. His unkempt beard didn't ring any bells, but those black eyes did. His expression was remarkably courteous.

Chris gasped. He finally choked out, "Jimmy." The gun was still trained on him as the limo started moving again. He looked at Ben, who crossed his arms impatiently, and back at the gunman. "H-How are you?"

"Alive." He cocked his gun, then smirked and turned it away. "Relax. I'm not hear to kill you. Would've done it a while ago."

Chris wished he could relax, but here he was being kidnapped and held at gunpoint. He turned to Ben. "You're in on this?"

"Somehow I got dragged in when your men jumped me," he replied coldly. "I know you thought I betrayed you, but that's not what happened."

"So Ben and I are really in the same boat," Jimmy said. "Some woman's cheating on you and we get the shaft." The gun was off Chris, not entirely away. Not that it mattered; Jimmy was the fastest draw he had ever seen, if he had kept it up – which he obviously had, from the way he moved and talked. "Classic."

"Where are we going?" he demanded.

"Doesn't matter. We just want to talk. This seemed like the best way to do it." Jimmy actually kicked up one of his feet on the leather seat next to Chris. But he had always been like that, hadn't he? "Believe it or not, we're looking out for you."

"He's telling the truth," Ben said, in that honest voice that Ben always had. He had always been the goody two-shoes. "Tony Marcello wants you dead."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"He sent his girlfriend after you. She tried to get me to go along with it, but I refused," Ben said. "But he's not just in it with her. He's been working with Silvia on the side."

He turned to Jimmy in disbelief.

"I always said she was a bitch," Jimmy said without reservation.

"Yeah, on my wedding day. It was appreciated," he snapped back, then added with more reserve, "This is true, isn't it?"

"Would either of us lie to you?" Ben asked.

He eyed them skeptically. Ben didn't waver, and Jimmy huffed indignantly and took out a cigarette from his inside pocket. "Look, man, why do you think I haven't killed you? Maybe I'm not mad at you for shooting me half a dozen times. Because if it was my wife, I would have done the same thing. It was all Silvia. It's always been about her." He didn't bother to disguise his rage. "I didn't do anything with her, and Ben doesn't work for Fujiko." He lit cigarette with a silver lighter. "We're on your side."

"Okay... Okay." But he wasn't okay. "So I am approximately screwed. Why are you telling me this? Do you have some kind of plan to get me out of it?"

"Not me," said Jimmy, and gestured to the door, which opened. "My boss does, though."

"Your boss?" Chris's mind was going through the various possibilities. There were other minor bosses, there were other families outside of Chicago –

They had pulled up to the waterfront, but there was no man he recognized as a crime figure, or that looked remotely American. There was only the man who had been his driver in a red jacket. Standing behind him, sword apparently at the ready, was a samurai.

"This better be a good one, Lupin," Jimmy said.

"Oh, it'll be good," said the 'boss,' – a monkey-like sort of man with a very vague accent. "If I do say so myself, it's an absolutely brilliant plan."


	6. Inspector

Chapter 6 – Inspector

_16 Years Ago_

_A man was talking over the bus station loudspeaker, but Jigen couldn't understand a word. For starters, he didn't speak a lick of Japanese, and the pounding in his head was making that point all to clear. In his hand, he was pretty sure, was a bus ticket that would take him to Osaka from the Tokyo International Airport. It really could say  
anything; he just had to trust the man behind the counter._

_This was possibly the dumbest thing he had ever done. The only thing good about this place was that it was worlds away from Chicago, and meanwhile it was particularly confounding._

_He opened the aspirin bottle he had dumped his painkillers into before getting on the plane. The vicodin Ben had given him was running out, which was probably for the best – it was just further disorienting him. What the hell was he doing in Japan again?_

_He liked it when the bus left the city. Somewhere along the road it pulled up to a rest stop, and he stepped out into the sun, taking an extra long drag as he stared up at the beautiful mountains. Unlike congested Tokyo, there was nothing here but grass and fresh air. He pushed his hat up for a better view, and to feel the wind in his face. Even if this was a wild goose chase, it was worth it._

_Striking another match, he produced the last of his ID cards – the one he had used to get on the plane. It was his driver's license from the state of Illinois. A younger, more vibrant, and less hairy Jimmy Diesi stared back up at him, as if expecting something._

_He burnt the card by the road, letting the plastic seal melt onto the pavement. He turned back and got on the bus without a second glance._

_All he had to go on was an old photograph and what his father had written on the back. It was blurry to him now, through the haze of pain. He relaxed in the restaurant booth, contemplating more pain medicine – but then again, this was really a conversation he wanted to have his head on straight for._

_He had put a Xerox of the picture in a lot of possibility's mailboxes, and only one woman had apparently responded. An older woman in a flower-print dress sat down across from him, the copy in her hands._

_"You are looking for me?"_

_"Yeah," he said slowly. "You know – the man in this picture?" he said hesitantly, sliding it over to her. "He was your husband."_

_"Daisuke." She quickly clarified, "Diesi. When we met, I spoke little English. He said his name was Sergeant Diesi. I could not pronounce it. So I called him Daisuke."_

_"He was your husband?"_

_"Yes. But his family ... didn't like. I had to go back." She paused sadly, stroking the photograph. "I find out from the newspaper when he died."_

_He stamped out the last of his cigarette in the ashtray. "That was a long time ago. He died when I was young. I don't really remember much – but he talked about you."_

_"You knew him?"_

_"Yeah." He averted his eyes nervously. "He was my father."_

_Mayumi looked at him skeptically, and for once, he allowed himself to be stared at. "You look like Daisuke – " She touched his bare beginnings of a beard as if he were aflame._

_He wasn't someone who liked to be touched, but this seemed like the time. "Except – I have black eyes. No one else in the family does."_

_"I had a son – his name was James."_

_"Jimmy. No one calls me James." He wanted to light another cigarette, but it didn't seem appropriate. "And no one ever will. They all think I'm dead. It's why I came here. And – I wanted to see if you exist, or dad was just making you up."_

_He turned away. Through the glass, Kyoto residents were passing in oblivion. There was a pause; maybe he had been wrong all along. Maybe she was playing for a fool. Christ, he wanted a cigarette. But before he could reach for woman, this women he had just met was hugging him, clutching his wounded torso like he was desperate to escape. "Mom – " he cried, pain rushing through his body. "Ow. Seriously. It's great to find you and all, but that HURTS." She released him, now a sobbing mess, and he clutched his side protectively._

_"My son – my little boy – You're injured!" She tugged on his jacket. "Who did this to you?"_

_"A guy I know. Grew up with him. You remember Magnelli? Anthony?" She nodded cautiously. "His son – Chris. It's a long story, and it's not a big deal. He just knocked me around a little." And as long as he didn't pop all his stitches, she would hopefully never know otherwise. "Anyway, it got a little hot at home. I had to disappear."_

_"You in your father's business?" she asked. "When I met him – he was a soldier. I didn't know – "_

_"It's just a different kind of soldier." Or so he told himself. "It doesn't matter. I'm not in that business anymore. You don't have to worry."_

---------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm telling you, you've got to take this guy seriously!" Inspector Zenigata said. "If he says he's going to be there, he's going to be there."

The FBI agent stared back at him with disinterest. This must have been the fifth time this had happened today. After receiving Lupin's note on his car windshield – announcing the thief would break into the mansion of Anthony Marcello and steal a diamond from his collection – Zenigata had run straight to the police, who had redirected him to the FBI, who had sent him scuttling from busy agent to busy agent. He was accustomed to this sort of treatment, but even the famous inspector had his limits. At least his English had improved since he had first started chasing Lupin, or he suspected he would have gotten nowhere at all.

The agent, who's name was Carlson or something, glanced at the note again. "You're telling me this thief leaves notes detailing his future crimes. On your car. Conveniently."

"Yes, G-ddamnit it!"

"Is he the Riddler or something?" the agent said with a smile. "You realize he listed the date and time as Tony Marcello's wedding?"

"It makes a certain amount of sense. Lupin is very methodical. If Marcello and all of his guards are at a church, his house will be left unguarded."

But the agent wasn't impressed by this amazing detective work. "Look, Inspector – " He glanced at the folder on this desk, "Zenigaba –"

"Zenigata."

"Right. Explain to me why the FBI should care that some crook is going to steal a diamond from the biggest mob boss in Chicago?"

Zenigata fumed. "Well, for starters, theft is still a felony in America. Not to mention breaking and entering."

"And grand racketeering. And murder. And tax evasion. All of which we're fairly sure Marcello is guilty of," said the agent. "Look, let me put it into perspective. While you've apparently been jetsetting around the world looking for a cat burglar, we've been building a case against the Marcello family. We've bugged his house and searched his offices. We've got people in witness protection for giving us leads. Now do you really want us to potentially blow all of that by working with him to catch this 'Lupin' character?"

"Agent Carlson, all I'm asking for –"

" – is a few of my men. All of which I need to cover the wedding. You don't think we're on the brink of a mob war here? Don't ask me again."

Americans were a rather rude people, or so Zenigata had learned. Carlson merely went back to ignoring him instead of dismissing him in any way, leaving Zenigata to growl in disgust and storm out. Of all of his rotten luck – Not that he wanted to ask a criminal for help, but this was Lupin he was talking about!

He had to admit to himself that Lupin's plan was pretty brilliant with the timing. Marcello's mansion would be unbelievably available while he was off marrying Fujiko –

No, it didn't make sense. Lupin would never allow Fujiko to marry someone else. He had always managed to talk her out of it. He was in love with her – that much was obvious. But if the heist went as planned, Lupin would be elsewhere while Fujiko took her vows. It had to be a scam – and there was someone who would know all about it.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Zenigata had never been in a bridal shop. He imagined most men hadn't. His wedding had been traditional Shinto anyway. He felt a little odd storming into a woman's territory, but a job was a job.

Fujiko Mine was on the pedestal in front of the mirrors, having her dress hemmed. She didn't blanched for a moment. "Zenigata. What a surprise."

"Where's Lupin?!?"

She put her hands on her hips. "He'd better not be here. Honestly, I expect more than peeping from him."

"That's not what I mean! What's the scam, Fujiko?"

"Why does everyone keep asking that? Honestly. Can't a woman just settle down without the interrogations?"

"Agh! You're not fooling me!" He pulled his handcuffs out. "You can either tell me or we can discuss it at the station!"

"Oh, I didn't know you had jurisdiction, Inspector Zenigata. Do you even know who I'm marrying? The man must have the best lawyers in the country at his bidding. And mine."

"Hmph." But she did have a point. "And I suppose he knows all about your past with Lupin? As a diamond thief? You don't think he found that suspicious?"

Fujiko paused. "What do you want, Zenigata? Wait, I'll answer that. You want Lupin. You're completely obsessed, you know that? Well, if you think Lupin and I are working together on this one, you're wrong! I only know that he's going to try to steal the diamond during my wedding."

He waved the note in front of her. "Lot of good that does me?"

"What? I think it does you plenty of good, come to think of it. Why don't you ask the FBI for help? I'm sure they're on top of Tony and his house as it is. They'd love an excuse to peek around."

"You don't – " He thought about it. "Heheh. Thanks, Fujiko! I'll be back for you when I finish with Lupin!" He didn't give her any more attention as he left.

"Huh. Who knew Zenigata would need so much help with police work," Fujiko mused.

"Yeah," Lupin said, stepping out of the dressing room. "And I'm glad you think I'm not some kind of disgusting peeping tom."

"Barely. And remind me why I'm helping you again," she asked.

"Because there's something in it for you that shines and cuts glass," he said with a wink. "My darling Fujiko – "

She slapped him. "Stop talking like that. I'm going to be an honest woman in two days."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he said with a playful grin.


	7. Wedding

Chapter 7 - Wedding

_16 Years Ago_

_He was living the good life. One he had a handle on the language, he managed to get a job in a translation firm. He had a white shirt and slacks and a monthly pass for the subway. He stuck out only with his American features and long hair – and a beard that was getting more and more out of control with the passing months. He had an apartment in the city, closer to work but close enough to his mother to satisfy her. It even had a balcony, which faced the side of another apartment complex with a giant billboard advertising a local new program. He had everything going for him, considering he had walked into the country six months earlier without a dollar or a name to attach it to._

_And he hated it all._

_His wounds had healed, but there were scars. They weren't his first, but they were rather – extensive. Sometimes he would stare at them in the mirror, picking away the peeling skin. It was normally all hidden beneath his clothing, a façade over a secret._

_He told himself he should let it stay that way. He was fitting in here. His mother was happy, and it seemed like she had suffered enough in her life. He went with her to the temple, where she lit incense for his grandparents, who had died in the war, and her father, who had been shot on the same street where he had been born. There was a sense of continuity here, even so far away from his familiar haunts._

_He was used to an urban environment, but something dragged him out in the countryside. A mere bus ride away, on empty green hills, he was not expected to be Jigen-san the translator, the American immigrant, the office worker. He could lie back and just stare at the mountains he had scene in so many rice paper drawings._

_So he lay there, on his free afternoons, smoking a solid pack of cigarettes. He knew he was ruining his lungs, but he didn't care. His life seemed to be mattering less and less. Just as insignificant as everyone else in the cubicles next to him, unnoticeable but for the alien features._

_Maybe he had died in Chicago, and this was purgatory. He remembered something about it from Sunday school, before he made Communion. Where you went to work off your sins so you could go to heaven. All he had to do was sit down, shut up, and get all the filing done and he'd be in Angel City._

_So why was it taking so Goddamn long?_

_"Are you a happy worker, Jigen-san?"_

_What the hell kind of question was that? Most of his previous conversations with bosses had been along the lines of 'Go do this and don't fuck up, or I'll have your balls in a juicer.' To the point. Appropriate. Not this shit from the man across the desk._

_Maybe he was didn't like Mr. Tanaka, or maybe he was just mad in general. Frustrated at his own ability to grok their vibe here. And nobody here even knew what 'grok' meant, so it wasn't worth explaining. A pasty little man in a suit that made him feel larger than his employees, who did not wear blazers. Dress codes, like Catholic school. He suddenly wanted to be in a suit – a better one than Mr. Tanaka's, that was for sure._

_Somewhere between his teeth-grinding and his itching for a cigarette, he realized he had to answer, "I guess so, sir."_

_"You don't seem like it."_

_Something in him snapped. He wondered if it was audible. "Sir, I get here on time, I do my work, and I don't cause trouble. What do you friggin' want from me?" He had told Tanaka early on that 'friggin' was a term of endearment._

_Tanaka shuffled the file around; it was probably on him. "Jigen-san, have you given thought to how your attitude affects productivity?"_

_Jigen blinked; it was quite honestly one of the stupidest questions he had ever been asked. And this after he had spent months carefully honing in his attitude into the polite, respectful, patient Japanese worker he was supposed to me. Christ, he needed a cigarette. "Actually, I hadn't given it any thought. And now that you mention it, I still won't."_

_His boss was managerial, having been placed there by the corporation to manage this branch. His English was not nearly as good as his employees', so it took him a minute. "I am beginning to think you are not taking this conversation very seriously," he said in Japanese._

_"That's because this conversation isn't serious; it's stupid," he spat back. "If I keep turning in my work, can we not have these conversations?"_

_"If the company really means so little to you – "_

_"You know what? It doesn't. I'm only here for the paycheck," he admitted angrily. "Oh, I know what you're going to say. You're going to say 'insolent American' in Japanese because you're too stupid to remember I know the language. Well, maybe I am. Or there's someone else that'll pay me without having me answer questions about friggin' productivity." He kicked his legs out from under him and stood up. "I quit. Daijoubu?"_

_If Tanaka had anything else to say, he didn't hear it. He was out the door and across the street. By the end of the street, he was cursing himself._

_He had screwed up. He was fitting into the system and he had blown up, all because he was in a shitty mood when he had been called into the corner office. Had he missed a lesson on how to be a compliant little fucker? Had it been that part of the language class he was out sick with the flu for? Was this where he was supposed to commit ritual suicide?_

_No – that would be stupid. It was just a job; a job that he had hated, and now he would never have to go again. He logically should be thrilled, and yet he felt alone and out of place, and it was making him miserable._

_He consoled himself in his normal fashion – buying a bottle of liquor and drinking himself into near-extinction. There was no bar on his street that he felt comfortable in today, not with their hot sake and girls with white faces. He bought some imported scotch and passed out in his empty bathtub instead, staring at the dull white ceiling._

_What would happen if he died in purgatory? Would that even happen? Was it just a pass straight to hell, or would he miraculously survive a bullet in his brain?_

_Drunk and playing with a gun – that summed up his life at the moment, which only served to make him more depressed. Still, come to think of it, it felt good to have his Smith and Wesson back in his hands, instead of buried in the dresser. He opened his blurry eyes and peered into the barrel. Still loaded, six bullets meant to protect Silvia from harm. At least Chris had had the decency not to kill him with his own gun._

_But he was still alive. Having his little shrew back in his hands reminded him of that. Six bullets, just asking to be shot. Well, he was drunk and he was depressed, but he wasn't stupid. He wasn't that mad at Mr. Tanaka and he wasn't that mad at himself. He just needed to fire the damn gun._

_'I'm gonna get myself in so much shit,' he grumbled to himself, but ignored his own warnings as he stepped out onto the tiny balcony. 'I don't even have a real passport. Do I want to get arrested here?' But nonetheless he raised the gun and aimed it at that stupid fucking billboard with that stupid fucking face. No, Mr. Yamado, he was not going to watch the show. He was going to shoot his eye out._

_The first bullet did fairly well, but not well enough. He covered his eyes halfway with his arm awkwardly, shielding himself from visual distractions, and he did better. The bullets wouldn't go far into the cement from this distance, so he wasn't overwhelmingly worried about Newscaster Yamado getting holes in his eyes and teeth._

_He didn't even pull his arm back until the gun clicked empty. The spell broken, he retreated into his apartment, slamming the door behind him. Six bullets from his old life, and they were gone- and yet, he felt terrific. He wasn't pissed anymore; he wasn't lonely anymore. He had his gun and that was all he needed._

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"This had better be worth missing the Marcello wedding," agent Carlson said immediately as his men kicked in the double doors of the mansion. Their actions would be, on a normal day, illegal – but if they were responding to a breaking and entering, they had the jurisdiction to enter the house, barring the owner's objections. And since Tony Marcello and his goons were at the cathedral, there were none.

Technically, the FBI was not responding to a breaking and entering – yet. Lupin had yet to show, but as there were still ten minutes left on his deadline, Zenigata wasn't putting much stock into worrying about him not showing. He strode in confidently, watching the lesser agents in combat gear and local cops swarm in alongside him, his jutte at the ready.

"You're sure about this guy, Inspector?"

"Lupin'll show. I'd stake my entire career on it." He stepped into what looked like the living room, running his hand along the expensive leather couch. "Where's the safe?"

"From what we gathered from the phone conversations, it's in the basement somewhere."

He looked at this watch – five minutes. For Lupin, that was plenty of time. He casually opened the fridge, and finding nothing of interest, followed the SWAT team members down into the basement. It couldn't be this easy – or Fujiko would have robbed the place blind weeks ago.

But it wasn't. "Sir." One of the men gestured with his assault rifle to door with a coded security lock. "Sir, should we bust it?"

Bust it – what did that mean? All right, his English needed some work. "What?"

"Go ahead." Carlson came up behind him. "Don't worry, Zenigaba. We're on it."

There are advantages to having the resources of the FBI behind you. A geared-up agent appeared from nowhere and unscrewed the casing of the keypad, then plugged his laptop into the wiring. The red digital display lit up, and began flipping through number combinations until it found the right one, and the door clicked open.

Two minutes. The agents went in ahead of him and turned on the lights. The room was empty but for a safe, which the techie agent just as easily cracked. Inside was a velvet box and several full manila envelopes. Carlson pushed Zenigata aside and plucked out the envelopes, going through them with furious intensity. "I think we may have a case against this guy. And the evidence will be admissible if seized during a response to a robbery. Which hasn't happened yet. Is your guy going to come through?"

"You say it like you want it to happen." Not that he didn't have a vested interest in Lupin appearing. "It looks like – HEY!"

The velvet box was gone. So, he noticed, was the techie. "LUPIN! He raced back up the stares, ignoring the confused look of his colleages. A window was open, and he could see the back of the cop running off.

His only suitable response, of course, was to follow. "LUPIN! GET BACK HERE!" He leapt out the window – and right into the backyard pool. The agents that followed – wisely, through the doors – watched dumbly as he paddled to the edge of the pool. "Don't just stand there! Get me a car!"

"That was Lupin?" Carlson asked, documents in hand.

"Of course it was Lupin!" he said angrily. "And I know where he's going – so get your men and get in the car!"

---------------------------------------------------------------------

In her experience, Fujiko had found weddings to be rather long and boring affairs – and she'd bee to several, including one of Lupin's. This one, however, with all of its grand majesty, was really moving along too quickly for her tastes. Lupin had promised to show, but they were nearly up to the vows and he was nowhere to be seen. She smiled at Tony. She wasn't going to have to marry this guy, was she?

The priest looked up from his book. "And now, the co – "

"Hold it! I know we're still ahead of that speak-now part, but some things are too cliché – even for me!"

They looked up in the rafters, where Lupin was hanging, dressed in tuxedo as if he were an invited guest. In his free hand was a small box.

"What the hell?" Tony said, squinting to see if he recognized him. He gestured to his men, who otherwise had been off to the side.

Lupin leapt down onto the altar, landing between Fujiko and her fiancé. "Is there still time for a competing offer? Before the fuzz arrives, that is." He opened the box to Fujiko, revealing one of the largest diamonds she had ever seen. "Or I get shot up by the mob. Either one. What'll it be, Fujiko-chan?"

"Aren't you – screw it!" Tony lifted his hand, and the men advanced, but the priest stepped between them, raising his cane and drawing a blade from within it.

"Another step, and you'll be one with your ancestors," he announced, his accent now unfamiliar and definitely not American. But before the men or the now very confused audience had a chance to react, the huge cathedral doors flew open in the back.

"LUPIN!" Zenigata shouted in half-triumph, followed by a horde of agents in riot gear. "Stay right where you are! You're under arrest!"

"Marcello!" said a man in a suit who held up an FBI badge. "You're under arrest!"

Lupin got off his knees and wrapped his arm around Fujiko, "That's our cue, Fujicakes." He handed her with the box and raised a special gun, which fired a grappling hook up back up into the rafters. As it retracted, it carried them up and away from Zenigata, who missed them by seconds.

"Lupin! I'll get you!" He turned and looked for Goemon, who had already disappeared.

The audience, meanwhile, was being run over by the police, and many of them arrested. Chris Magnelli and his wife decided it was best to make their exit. They slipped into the side chapel, Chris shutting the door behind them.

But they were not alone. Silvia turned to leave through the back exit, and found a gun pointed at her head.

"Well, well. What a friggin' surprise."


	8. Ghost

Chapter 8 – Ghost

_15 Years Ago_

_He got a job. He wanted to keep moving, not sit in an office, so he got a job as a limo driver. He got to wear a suit – not a good suit, with the cheesy driver hat, but it kept his eyes shielded, and he liked that. He liked that he could ignore people, and be rolling his eyes, even if he was facing them. He was dark and mysterious and a loner and it all suited him fine. He sat quietly in his driver's seat and no one gave him any shit. And if they did, his pistol was tucked in the back of his belt. Wearing a shoulder holster would be noticeable. This wasn't._

_He didn't talk much with the customers. He had a list of their names and where to pick them up, and that was the whole of it._

_"The Sheraton. And step on it." The man – a big guy with a briefcase on his lap – spoke English in a Russian accent._

_Jigen didn't bother to look up his name as he pulled out of the airport and onto the familiar superhighway. The man – obviously busy and agitated in a very businessman way – was in no mood to talk, and neither was he. He was more concerned with his rear windows. "Someone's tailing us," he said after he was sure._

_"What?" But somehow, the business man didn't seem overwhelmingly surprised. "Since we left the airport?"_

_"Yeah. The blue car on the left." He remained completely calm, and so did his client. "I've been trying to shake him, but we're about to hit traffic on the next overpass."_

_"Then get off the highway," he commanded. "Find another route."_

_Jigen looked at his sheet. The man's name was Korosky. Nothing rung a bell. "Whatever you want."_

_He made the next exit, and the blue car was tailing, two behind. He heard Korosky shifting around in the back nervously. "You scared?"_

_"Nah," he said without real emotion. "Oh, and hold on." He veered the car sideways, making and abrupt turn into a quieter street. Unfortunately, their pursuer seemed to get the message and pulled up behind them. Shots from an unfamiliar gun roared in his ears as the car swung out of control. "__Fuck. He shot a tire. Still holding on?" He managed to slow it down, but only by doing a 180 that brought the car to a halt._

_"Stay in the car," the client ordered him, and stepped out to meet the two men getting out of the other car. They were short and puggish, and brandishing guns._

_Damnit. If Korosky got killed, the ride would come out of his pay. He got out, not even bothering to ready his weapon. Korosky and the men were yelling in Russian._

_"This doesn't involve you," one said to Jigen in Japanese. "Unless you want to die for this man."_

_"Not for this guy. But not for you, either." He drew his gun and shot the gun out of the man's hands without so much as an extra twitch. "Now GET LOST."_

_It took another couple shots in the air and one aimed rather close to their heads, but the thugs seemed to get the message. Korosky turned to him, trying to see under his hat._

_"You saved my life," Korosky said without formality. "What's your name, kid?"_

_"Jigen," he said, reholstering his gun. "And I'm not a kid."_

_His client had a wicked smile on his face. "Obviously not. Where are you from? You're not a national. Not totally, anyway."_

_Jigen said nothing as he opened the passenger door._

_"I could report this to the police. You have an unlicensed firearm. And you assaulted two men."_

_"It was self-defense," he said impatiently._

_"Technically, yes." Korosky was still smiling, but he did get in the backseat. Jigen started up the car again as if nothing had happened, but his client wasn't done speaking. "Tell me, Jigen-san, have you ever been to Russia?"_

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Silvia Magnelli expected Chris to jump in front of her, or at least make some attempt to take down the gunman who had a pistol pointed at her head. Sure, their marriage wasn't perfect, but it seemed like a nice courtesy. "Chris – "

"No." He merely stepped away from her, in the opposite direction. "This is between you and him."

That seemed impossible. She didn't know this hairy thug who looked like he had stepped out of a 30's gangster movie. Granted, her life was a gangster movie, but she liked to think she lived in the right decade. "It's been a while," he said, smoke coming out in plumes from his mouth. His grip on the gun was perfect and unwavering, as if blowing her brains out would be the easiest thing in the world.

Skinny, arrogant, black eyes that were hidden carefully behind a fedora, a distinct gun – he looked like a ghost of someone she knew. A friend of Chris', that punk with a Jap mother. "Jimmy?"

"Somehow I didn't really think you would have forgotten me." Nothing about him wavered, not even an inch. "You've got about five seconds to explain why I shouldn't blast you to hell. Five. Four – "

"Jimmy," she said with some resolve. After all, her life was on the line. Jimmy Diesi, who had once been an attractive, clean-shaven up-and-comer in the Outfit. "I can't – Chris, do you know who this is?"

"I should; I had him shot," he said coldly. "At the time, I didn't feel remotely bad about it. Now it just tears me up inside."

"Hey, I said to forget it," Jimmy said with a smirk. "Doesn't let her off the hook."

"You guys. What am I really supposed to do? You were always scheming together. Thick as thieves," she said. For some reason, this made Jimmy chuckle. She ignored it. "Something tells me whatever I say is going to get turned against me."

"Karma, ne?" Jimmy said. "Three, by the way."

"Okay, okay." She turned to Chris, but he stared back at her coldly. "I have to say I'm impressed. You survived, changed your identity, and turned my husband against me. What do you want, Diesi? There must be something – other than me dead."

"No. Two."

"Come on. I don't remember you being such a simple man." She was getting nervous. "Seriously. What do you want? I have everything."

"Funny – so do I. One." He turned the safety off.

Silvia closed her eyes. There was no point in running – Jimmy was an excellent shot, and this was a very small room. All she heard, though, was a click – of an empty gun barrel. She opened her eyes – and he had lowered his gun, flipping open the barrel. No bullets.

"This is why I'm sorta glad I was kicked out," Jimmy said. "I've got no heart for execution. Especially in a church."

"Yeah," Chris said. "I always knew that. Silvia – you're in with Tony, and he's going down. So you're going down with him."

"Oh, and you're such a saint," Silvia said, but then remembered she had to keep herself in check. Somebody in this room was still armed. But her life had just been spared, and she was relieved.

"You won't see me again," Chris said coldly. "Which is, I suppose, the way it has to go. I'll mail you the divorce papers when I get your prison address."

"You're just going to leave me here?"

"If anyone asks where Chris went," Jimmy said, "tell him he left with a ghost." He fired into the air, sending a cloud of smoke over the room. By the time it had cleared, they were gone.

"LUPIN!" The door next to her swung open, and a very disheveled Asian man stormed in. "Where's Lupin? Where is he hiding?!?"

"Who the _hell_ is Lupin?"

"He's a very dangerous criminal and he's hiding here somewhere!" He looked about ready to tear up in the wooden pews. "Lupin! Wait – are you Lupin? Is this some clever disguise?"

"What? No – "

But he had already slapped the cuffs on her. At that moment the regular policemen and FBI agents followed him in. "Inspector Zenigara!"

"Zenigata," he muttered.

"You've single-handedly brought down an entire crime family – and it looks like you've caught one of the Magnellis," said the agent. "Congratulations!"

"Uh... thanks." Never did a cop seem less enthusiastic about praise.


	9. Trade

Chapter 9

_10 Years Ago_

_His mother never changed anything about her apartment. The magazines remained in neat piles on the table, and the pictures were on the windowsill, even the ones of his father and him that he didn't want out for show. He had offered to buy her new furniture, and she had gently refused._

_"How many times do I have to tell you to take off your hat?" she said as she set down the tea set. "You may be a big tough guy to everyone else, but you're still my little boy." Which was saying a lot, since he was two feet taller than she was._

_He sat down for the tea, removing the hat and brushing his stray hair out of his face. "How are you?" The Diesi-Jigen family didn't stand much on ceremony, even tea ceremony._

_"How would you know?" she said without malice. "You're off in New York."_

_"Actually, I'm back in Osaka for a while," he explained. "New job. New employer. Name's Lupin."_

_"Are you happy?"_

_It was the sort of question no one else would think to ask him. "... Yeah, mom. I'm happy. I like my work and I like my boss. What can I say?"_

_"I'm happy that you're happy," she said. "As long as you're not getting into any trouble."_

_"No mom," he said. "No trouble at all."_

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Present

"So," Ben said, "you let her go."

They were standing out on the dock, facing the water – the original gang. Goemon was sitting on one of the beams, apparently deep in meditation, and Lupin had yet to reappear after his hasty exit from the church.

"I said I would," Jigen said. The sand was still as brown and the water as murky as he remembered it, and it felt good anyway.

"I was barely willing to let her off so easily – but hey, if Jimmy was," Chris shook his head sadly. "I wasn't gonna stand in the way of that. Sorry for having you shot, by the way."

"Sorry?" Jigen chuckled, lighting a cigarette. "Are you kidding? It was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"At the time you didn't seem so enthused," Ben noted.

"I mean in the long term. No offense to anyone present, but I'm richer and freer and happier as a thief than I ever would have been in the Family. If there was a better way out I would have taken it, but there wasn't."

"None taken."

He paced the boardwalk. "Don't get me wrong – I still think Silvia's a whore – no offense – "

"None taken," Chris said again.

" – but it's like this crazy guy I know always says – 'Betrayal is a woman's exclusive right.'"

"Speaking of Lupin," Goemon interrupted, "Has anyone seen him since the wedding?"

"Not since he proposed to Fujiko," Jigen laughed. "He's such a ham. I wonder how he's gonna get himself out of this one."

"The guy in the red jacket, right?" Chris gestured over towards the land. "He's coming this way."

It was indeed Lupin, running across the junkyard at top speed. He barely caught himself in time to stop in front of his partners, panting for breath. "Guys ... you've got ... to help me ... not ready ... to settle down ..."

"Just give her the diamond, Lupin."

"Can't ... – help me..."

"Lupin!" It was Fujiko, still in her wedding dress, appearing over the scrap piles. "Get back here!"

"Aiee!" Lupin nearly leapt over Jigen to get to a motorboat that was parked at the dock.

Nodding to Goemon, Jigen tipped his hat up to his old friends. "That's our cue to go."

"Are we ever going to see you again?" Ben asked. "I need to stop asking that question."

"Just ask around at Interpol. They always seem to be on top of us," Jigen said, stepping back into the boat with Lupin and Goemon. They kicked off just in time to miss Fujiko, who slammed past Chris and Ben.

"Don't make me come out there!"

"I love you too!" Lupin said. Finding the motor not operational, he began paddling madly. "But I'm just not ready for a commitment!"

"Lupin!"

"Don't just stand there, guys!" he commanded his partners. "Hurry up and paddle!"

Fujiko wasn't the only thing they were leaving behind. As Jigen half-paddled, he waved good-bye to Ben and Chris – that was, until he was whacked in the back of the head with a paddle.

"Stop waving and start working!" Lupin shouted. "I've already been to one wedding today; I'm not going to another one!"

All right, so there were even more wisecracks with his new partners than his old ones. There had to be a balancing factor somewhere. It was karma, or some other kind of Buddhist-Shinto thing. He had traded his old life for a new one.

"Perhaps we should let her catch you," Goemon said. "She may have something to teach you about honoring your vows."

"This, coming from a thieving samurai," Lupin spit back.

And Jigen decided that wouldn't trade it back – for anything in the world.

The End


End file.
